Meet Me Halfway
by define-serenity
Summary: Seblaine/Blaine. He wasn't snooping. He'd just opened a drawer in which he knew something was hidden. Okay, he was almost definitely not snooping. oneshot. COMPLETE.


**disclaimer:** without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy. no infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

**author's notes:** based on a graphic **spuffina** made for Seblaine week on Tumblr, written with expressed permission of the fan artist :) this was so much fun to write, but it's been a looong time since i've written any smut, so do let me know what you think? super special superhero thanks to my beta **Inwenalas**.

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**Meet Me Halfway;;**

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His fist connects with the leather punching bag hard, boxing tape straining around his knuckles.

He wasn't snooping.

He'd just opened a drawer in which he knew something was hidden.

Okay, he was _almost_ _definitely_ not snooping.

It was just that Sebastian made it so hard not to notice how he walked through the door last week, bag hidden behind his back, even though he would never have questioned Sebastian carrying a bag inside in a regular fashion. But then he'd made it his mission to distract Blaine, asking him for a bottle of water from the kitchen, sneaked into the bedroom and by the time Blaine made it out of the kitchen he heard the very distinct sound of one of their bedroom drawers closing.

Sebastian was hiding something from him.

And Sebastian should really know better by now.

So yeah, he might have been snooping, waited for Sebastian to leave for work the next day and stalked into their bedroom like a cat burglar. And he'd opened the drawer. And he'd found the box.

_The_ box.

He couldn't believe his eyes at first, the red velvet box stuffed inside one of Sebastian's socks (okay, he had to dig around a _little_), golden clasp keeping it tightly shut and for one second he told himself he was strong enough to resist. The box was there, Sebastian had bought it, their four-year anniversary was coming up—he wasn't beyond being surprised. But there was this tiny tug in his chest, this little impulse that needed to know, had so see the box wasn't empty or didn't hold anything less than what he was expecting.

So he'd opened it, after taking a very deep breath, because it got punched right out of him the moment he laid eyes on the box's contents.

The ring.

He was two hours late for work that day.

He lashes out with another punch, his fingers already hurt like all hell, but he's angry and confused and—well, he feels guilty for digging around in the drawer in the first place.

Their night had started out perfect.

Since he knew about the ring he'd insisted on making dinner himself, rather than go out to a fancy restaurant—he didn't put it past Sebastian to make a huge display of affection before going down on one knee and popping the question. And if he was really honest the thought of Sebastian confessing his love to him with other people as witnesses wasn't entirely unappealing. But something cozy and intimate and _just the two of them_ sounded perfect.

And then dinner was followed by a movie, huddled together on the couch and making out before the credits hit. They'd cleared the living room of everything but the TV and the couch and they'd sunk down on the rug together, drank wine and kissed and groped and made love—

"I love you," Sebastian had whispered, Blaine's head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat coming down.

Blaine raised himself on his arms and hovered over Sebastian. "You're the love of my life," he said. Sebastian had just stared up at him, ran his hands through his curls (which was _maddening_) and ravaged him all over again.

But the question never came.

The chains holding the punching bag up shriek, his fists hitting the leather in quick succession.

"A book?" he asked once he unwrapped Sebastian's present. He didn't mean for it to happen, but his face fell. Where was the ring? Where was the proposal? Still tugged away safe in a sock drawer.

"You don't like it," Sebastian said, an uncharacteristic panic in his eyes.

"No, I—" Of course he liked the book, a first edition of his favorite which he knew must have cost Sebastian entirely too much money. "It's perfect. Thank you."

But Sebastian's worry didn't subside. "You seem upset," he said. "What's wrong? I can get you another gift." He crawled closer to him again on the rug. But Blaine didn't want to say he saw the ring, that he knew what this night could have been for them, their _engagement_. That would be admitting that he snooped and it might force a question out of Sebastian that should be spontaneous.

"More bowties," Sebastian joked. "Or hair gel."

Blaine laughed. Sebastian just had this way with him. "You miss the bowties."

"I do." Sebastian nodded, lips sliding into a smile. "So very much."

He hardly slept all night, kept telling himself that it didn't matter, Sebastian loved him and they'd had a perfect night and maybe Sebastian was just waiting for a better time. But what better time was there than their anniversary?

He'd tossed and turned, Sebastian fast asleep next to him, and his mind had wandered to all the wrong places. Maybe it really was too soon, maybe they weren't ready, maybe— maybe Sebastian wasn't sure they were in it for the long haul. But then why buy the ring?

This morning, after a meager two hours of sleep, he'd grabbed his gym bag and left the apartment before Sebastian woke up, even though he'd promised him pancakes and morning sex. Maybe he'd worked himself up over nothing, but he needed to get rid of the tension in his shoulders. And he couldn't do that with Sebastian there.

Hitting the gym, it turns out, wasn't one of his brightest ideas. The more punches he lands the bigger the doubts get, the more he starts wondering when he'd given Sebastian the wrong signal, when exactly during the night Sebastian had decided he needed to wait or not propose at all. What had gone wrong?

It's only half an hour before Sebastian finds him. He casts a glance at him quick, guilt and doubt and love all rushing through him.

Sebastian sighs, as if he's tired, as if he doesn't understand. Or maybe he's just making that up. "What are you doing here?" Sebastian asks.

"I knew, Sebastian, okay?" he says, backs away from the punching bag because he doesn't want to get angry with Sebastian. Unless he's about to lose him. "I found the box," he admits, hands at his hips. "But you didn't say a thing all night."

A small smile tugs at the corner of Sebastian's mouth. "You've always been impatient."

Yes, Blaine thinks, he's not the most patient guy ever, and how did he end up with a boyfriend that keeps his cool like no other? Because there's no change in his expression, Sebastian just stares at him, and it cuts through him again. Weren't they past this? Hadn't they already dealt with this doubt and fear at the beginning of their relationship? Weren't they happy now, settled and—is that it? Does Sebastian think he _settled_?

Sebastian reaches for something in his pocket, the red velvet box again and damn it if it doesn't knock the breath out of him all over again. He wants this, he'd say yes in a heartbeat if only Sebastian would ask. He doesn't know when exactly he'd decided Sebastian had to be the one to ask.

But there's that box and he'd really like to hear it, if only this once, because he'll know like he always knows. He'll know if Sebastian's lying.

Sebastian unclasps the box and reveals the ring again and it's _flawless_. It's a matt sterling silver solid ring with a single diamond in the center, it's tiny but it's perfect and Blaine has completely lost his train of thought by the time he meets Sebastian's eyes again. He swallows hard.

"Will you marry me, Blaine Anderson?" Sebastian asks.

He breathes in deep, waits, tries to decipher any nuance in Sebastian's question that might betray his true intentions. And then he's reminded Sebastian doesn't do anything half-assed, not at work, not in life, not with _them_. The first time he didn't just say I love you, he _screamed_ it for the whole world to hear; when they moved in together Sebastian insisted on christening, well, _every_ room, and who was he to object, even if the neighbors (_all_ the neighbors) had complained.

Why didn't Sebastian ask him this last night? He didn't—he didn't think he'd say no, did he? Sebastian Smythe doesn't doubt, he doesn't question; he's decisive and he's calm unlike his impatient boyfriend. God, he's being silly, he shouldn't question Sebastian's love for him.

"It was about time, you idiot," he says.

Sebastian's eyes narrow on his face. "Is that your definitive answer?"

Blaine shakes his head, smiles, and wonders exactly how it's possible to love someone this much and want to smack him at the same time. He closes the distance between them in a few confident strides, reaches up and pulls Sebastian down—he crashes their lips together and Sebastian's mouth's hot and greedy on his and he loses himself so completely in this time and time again.

This is right for them, it's the right choice at the right time and he's being _stupid_. It doesn't matter how or where Sebastian asks, he only ever wants him to mean it and—"Yes," he mutters against his boyfriend's lips. "Yes, I'll marry you."

Sebastian pulls him close. "About time," he whispers.

"Why did you—" Blaine clears his throat, coming to his senses again. "Why did you wait?"

"I wasn't sure about the ring," Sebastian answers. "I was going to exchange it, but when you stormed out this morning I knew I was in trouble."

"So—" the word's out before he knows it, and he almost asks, _so you're not having second thoughts_, but he realizes Sebastian was only having second thoughts because the ring might not be perfect and he needed it to be because that's just the kind of guy he is.

Sebastian frowns, "What?" he asks, but Blaine can't help but wonder if he's just refraining from calling him an idiot in return. Because, quite honestly, he is an idiot.

"Nothing." He shakes his head. "The ring doesn't matter. I love the ring."

Sebastian grins and pulls the ring from the box, takes hold of his hand, but they don't once release each other's eyes, not when Sebastian puts it on his pinky first and they're both laughing, not when he gets it right and slides it down the length of his ring finger.

And then Sebastian leans in, brushes his lips against his, nips at them painstakingly slow. Blaine whines, reaching his arms up around his neck, fingers digging into Sebastian's hair.

"You know you'll pay for snooping, right?" Sebastian asks between sucking at his lips. "It is impossible to surprise you."

"I know," he breathes. "And I'm sorry. And you can make me pay whichever way you choose."

"How about the post-anniversary morning sex I was very explicitly promised?"

He pulls back and eyes Sebastian. "Not exactly punishment."

Sebastian grins and arches an eyebrow. "You say that now," he says, and sinks in for another kiss.

An hour later he's let Sebastian strip him of all his clothing (he'd insisted on taking care of his own) and he's been touched everywhere he could possibly be touched, kissed and caressed and sucked in more places than he thought possible (and that's saying something after four years)—and Blaine really wishes he hadn't said _whichever_ way.

Because this is punishment.

He's moaning and Sebastian's name's right at the back of his throat, but he _can't _because he's being fucked into the mattress, his cock painfully hard but trapped between the sheets and his own body—"Sebastian," his voice lower than a whisper—Sebastian's hands are hot and hard on his hips and he's grinding into him—"Please."

Sebastian lifts off him ever so slightly and he can breathe, "Oh God, _please_!" he calls out, the movement causing more friction and his cock twitches, leaking, and he needs release before he loses his mind.

Sebastian leans over closer again, but lifts his hips off the bed, removing any sort of friction but then Sebastian's hand wraps around his cock and he cries out, the change in position making Sebastian hit a new spot.

"You won't snoop anymore, will you, baby?" Sebastian pants in his ear.

"No, f-fuck, I won't," he manages, his body on fire, heat coiling inside him as Sebastian syncs the rhythm of his hand with the rhythm he's slamming into him. "Oh God, baby, please," he begs, whines, fucking himself into Sebastian's hand, tightening himself around Sebastian's cock.

"Fuck, Blaine!" Sebastian cries out and his hips stutter a few more times before Sebastian comes inside him, hard and wet, weight pressing down on him again, but somehow he manages to keep himself upright.

"Sebastian," he breathes, face half buried in the pillow, fisting the sheets for any sort of hold.

"Come for me, baby," Sebastian whispers hot in his ear, fist pumping his cock, and before he knows it he's coming, spilling, coming all over the sheets, crying out nonsense and Sebastian's name.

"That's it, love," Sebastian says, trailing kisses between his shoulder blades. "That's it."

And then his entire body gives out, slumping down on the sheets, utterly spent.

He doesn't notice how Sebastian pulls out of him, tiptoes into the bathroom, comes back and turns him over gently, cleaning him up with a damp towel.

Sebastian scoops him up in his arms, lips at his forehead.

"I love you," Blaine says softly, running his fingertips over Sebastian's skin. "I love you so much, my beautiful—" he stops himself, and stares up at Sebastian.

"It's okay." Sebastian smiles. "We're even. You can call me an idiot."

But that's not what he—well, he _did_ mean to say it, but he realizes he can call Sebastian something new now. "My fiancée," he says and it feels so right, so new, so close.

Sebastian presses a quick kiss to his lips and pulls back, staring down into his eyes. "Say that again."

"My fiancée," Blaine repeats, and his lips are attacked again, Sebastian's tongue pushes past his teeth, settles against his and just lingers there for minutes—his head starts spinning.

"Again," Sebastian mutters breathlessly.

Blaine chuckles. "Idiot," he says and expects another kiss, only this time Sebastian's hands are at his waist and he pinches his sides and he yelps, shooting up in the bed. "I'm sorry!" he practically screams, lacking the energy to go in for full-out tickle torture. "I surrender."

"Good," Sebastian says. Blaine turns and settles his back against Sebastian's chest, his fiancée's arms tight around him. "I'm not sure we're up to another round just yet."

"Yet?"

"Do you mind?" Sebastian asks, and kisses the spot just behind his ear. "We got engaged today, Killer."

Blaine smiles—he still loves it when Sebastian calls him Killer, even though _babe_ and _baby_ and _love_ are more regular occurrences now. But it reminds him of when they first met, the merciless flirting, the angst and doubt and fear— and now look at them. He would do it the same all over again.

Sebastian stretches his left arm out and his along with it, intertwining their fingers, the light refracting off the diamond in his ring. It feels strange around his finger because he's never worn one before, but he sure could get used to this.

"I'm sorry," Blaine says, but it's not for the _idiot _or for assuming there won't be any more sex after this. It's not even for the snooping (Sebastian should really have known better). He's sorry for doubting Sebastian, doubting his love for him and _being_ an idiot.

Sebastian kisses his hair. "I'm sorry too."

Blaine's almost certain he's not apologizing for the ring but for the wait.

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**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


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